How Black Women Challenged Conservative Beauty Trends In 2024

When I first came across Nara Smith’s tongue-in-cheek TikTok videos, whispering about making Coco Pops from scratch for her children while clad in Louboutins and a little black dress, little did I know that Smith, a biracial woman, would become (perhaps unwittingly) the modern face of ideological conservatism that would take the internet by storm. The 2024 “trad wife” is a doting wife and mother who glorifies domesticity in the view of a camera phone. She takes care of the home, cooks everything from scratch, homeschools her children, and does it all without breaking a sweat, and in the most aesthetically pleasing way possible. 

As a second Trump term looms, this conservative cultural shift seen on social media mirrors the broader political changes happening across the Western world as it tilts to the right, from the fall of Roe V. Wade to many European countries embracing more conservative ideologies. It’s a shift witnessed beyond political arenas and is driving significant cultural changes that have influenced lifestyle, pop culture, and, interestingly, current beauty ideals, trends, and standards. It’s been argued that the rise in conservative politics has led to a noticeable shift in favor of “conservative beauty.”

Nothing epitomizes this change quite like the trad wife subculture, arguably helmed by Smith, 23, where women embrace traditional gender roles and ideals of femininity. The appeal of the trad wife aesthetic, as seen in creators like Aria Lewis and Hannah Neeleman of Ballerina Farm, is clear: it offers a seemingly simple, idyllic lifestyle, a refuge from the chaos of modern life. But beneath the surface, the trend reinforces conservative beauty ideals that inadvertently exclude Black women (who do not look like Smith) marginalizing the expressive, diverse, and space-occupying representations of our beauty.

What exactly is the trad wife aesthetic?

It’s a fresh, natural look that emphasizes radiant skin and soft features. Hair is typically styled neat and slicked back, or flowing heatless curls often inspired by mid-20th-century style trends among white women, to reflect neatness and classic femininity. It can also look like modest tea dresses, with minimal makeup and waifish thinness that are lauded as gentle, “soft” and befitting of the male gaze.

In contrast, Black beauty tells a different story.

Our traditions are deeply rooted in African and Caribbean cultures. Our beauty icons range from legendary models like Iman and Alek Wek to beauty entrepreneurs and makeup artists like Pat McGrath, as well as actors like Lupita Nyong'o. It’s not just the famous faces, it’s also our grandmothers, aunties, and friends that provide beauty inspiration. The ways we wear makeup and style our hair are diverse, constantly evolving, and serve as a form of self-expression. They reflect our cultures, celebrate the textures of our hair, and enhance the richness of our skin tones. 

Black beauty is also inherently political, as it challenges a Western world shaped by a history of Eurocentric beauty ideals and defines beauty in narrow terms— standards we’re told we don’t meet. By reclaiming and challenging what it means to be beautiful, Black beauty, in turn, is a powerful response to these standards.

The Black beauty industry has consistently carved its own path and redefined standards within the beauty world. Pioneering entrepreneurs like Madame C.J. Walker and Annie Malone built empires that offered hair care and beauty products specifically for Black women who were neglected by mainstream brands; Anthony Overton with his large cosmetic company and Rose Meta Morgan with her iconic salon The Rose Meta House of Beauty catered to Black beauty needs, John H. Johnson's Fashion Fair Cosmetics made sure makeup shades catered to a wider range of skin tones, to today, as Rihanna's Fenty Beauty continues this legacy of inclusivity, celebrating all complexions. This rich history is a testament to the innovation and resilience of Black women in the world of beauty.

Vibrant colors, highlights, bold eyeshadows, statement lipsticks, and intricate artistry are all ways Black women can express creativity and individuality. All of this stands in stark contrast to the more subdued aesthetic often associated with the trad wife ideal. While Black women can certainly appreciate the pastel shades, soft florals, and muted tones of this look, the idea that it represents the definitive standard of beauty is incredibly restrictive.

This ideal has also given rise to a beauty ethic that reshapes perceptions of femininity and, by extension, the virtue of what it means to be a woman — a framework that is again deeply limiting. But for Black women, this is nothing new. 

Our features have long been dismissed as unfeminine, perpetuating harmful stereotypes that still linger today. Prominent figures such as Michelle Obama have been recipients of dehumanizing slurs and racist abuse online, while those of us with athletic or muscular builds are seen as the least desirable.

In this new era of beauty, the ripple effects of these biases are evident even in trends like plastic surgery, which continues to define and sculpt "perfection" through a Eurocentric lens. Cosmetic procedures such as nose jobs and the increasing popularity of weight-loss drugs like Ozempic and Wegovy reflect a growing obsession with thin, lean physiques, no doubt a response to this restrictive beauty standard. 

The year has also seen the continued rise of femininity coaches, another result of the new conservative beauty ethic. Even though there are countless ways to be a woman, their teachings often reduce femininity to presenting a subdued version of oneself— from telling clients to lose weight to sharing etiquette advice —  all in the pursuit of securing a financially stable marriage, one where the man is rarely held to the same high standards of perfection demanded of the woman.

It didn’t stop here. 2024 saw the rise of the old money aesthetic, an ideal often linked to white, colonial history. This aesthetic does not try too hard and promotes a certain understated elegance that looks expensive but it avoids branded luxury fashion. 

As beauty influencer Jackie Aina recently highlighted during her interview on The Receipts Podcast, successful Black women are often labeled as new money when they embrace luxury, and it’s a veiled insult. What makes it all so ridiculous is that many African American women are descendants of ancestors who were enslaved or denied the opportunity to build generational wealth —  being “old money” was never an option to begin with. Meanwhile, the old money aesthetic itself harks back to wealth that was built on a legacy of colonialism and slavery, so why is it something to aspire to?

Amidst all the shifts we’ve navigated this year, we continue to face challenges in the Black beauty industry, despite the progress of the past five years. 

This summer, popular beauty influencer Golloria faced a wave of racist abuse after calling out brands like Rhode and Armani for their blush shades that didn’t complement deeper skin tones. Her brave stance led to a massive outpouring of support from millions of Black beauty lovers online.

Our voices rose loudly against the hate — support is what we always do — but it did highlight how the fight for representation and recognition in beauty is far from over.

One way we’ve pushed back as a community is through beauty itself, always a form of activism. We've continued to create and drive trends that shape culture, assert our presence, and celebrate our beauty. Take the XXL nail trend, popularised by Black women in the '80s and '90s. It has since become a staple on celebrity red carpets, and this year saw celebrities like Billie Eilish, Sha’Carri Richardson, and Cynthia Erivo embrace the trend.

Beauty entrepreneur Sherrille Riley explains, “As a culture, we love colors. They’re part of celebrating life and reflecting the vibrancy of our heritage. In Caribbean culture, long, colorful nails, adorned with jewelry and piercings, have always been a way for women to express themselves. It was a big middle finger to Western beauty standards.”

Once dismissed as "ghetto fabulous" this trend has since been embraced by the mainstream beauty and entertainment industry, and we continue to pioneer and perfect it.

Black women are also challenging the conservative beauty ethic by reimagining the trad wife aesthetic and putting a unique spin on the trend.

Though some consider Nara Smith a proponent of the online trad wife movement, I’d argue Smith is spoofing it. Her insistence that she has just woken up, craving homemade bubblegum and is therefore going to show us how to make it should we ever be in the same situation, is playfully ridiculous. It also shows how with every beauty trend, we can define what it means for us and claim it in our own way. 

TikTok star Kerry Ingram, for instance, challenges traditional notions of femininity by embracing hyperfeminine fashion in a way that celebrates being Black and a girl. Ingram loves princess dresses and frilly, flowy clothing. Her everyday makeup is soft glam, but she loves a glitter eyeshadow. In an interview with Allure, Ingram explained how growing up, she felt pressured to conform to the roles and conservative aesthetic others expected of her. Ingram was told her hyperfeminine style was something "white women typically do", suggesting Blackness and femininity don’t go together. It’s why creators like her are also so important in the beauty space. 

As we close out the year, it's clear that Black women are not only navigating the complexities of beauty standards but actively reshaping them. From redefining the trad wife aesthetic to reclaiming what it means to be feminine, we continue to challenge the constraints placed on us by mainstream ideals. Our voices and our influence are louder than ever.